No one Wants to Date a Fairy
by InkImperfect
Summary: A three part Dean&Seamus story in which Seamus comforts, they ramble drunkenly, and no one wants to date a fairy.
1. No one wants to date a fairy

"_There are plenty of fish in the sea, but you're the only fish for me."_

**Part One: In which no one wants to date a fairy.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Etc.**

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Harry's Transfiguration book went flying across the common room, nearly beheading a trembling third-year who was exiting the staircase. They shrieked, and Dean growled angrily as he chose another object to throw. He selected an uncapped bottle of ink that someone had left carelessly within his reach and chucked it against the far wall. Without stopping to admire the interesting pattern that the splashed ink had created, he stooped and searched for something else to throw.

Seamus looked on as Dean went on destroying people's possessions.

"Still mad about Harry and Ginny hooking up, eh?"

"Mad?" asked Dean, a manic glint in his eye. "No, I'm not mad at all. I'm FURIOUS. For God's sake, I know he's a hero and handsome and all that, but seriously. What does he have that I don't? Am I that undesirable?"

"No," said Seamus casually.

Dean didn't notice. Instead he hefted one of Ron's spellbooks and threw it into the fire. Seamus grimaced.

"You're crazy, mate. What did Ron ever do to you?"

"Well, he's Harry's best friend."

"And Lavender?" Seamus asked, watching as Dean tore up her favorite quill.

"She dated Ron."

"Ah."

Seamus carefully moved his Defense essay off the table and folded it into his pocket. After all, he and Lavender were both in Gryffindor, and he didn't want Dean getting any ideas.

"Between you and me, you never seemed to fancy Ginny all that much. So why are you so pissed?"

Dean stopped cold, and Seamus thought he could see a blush spreading across his friend's cheeks…but it must have been a trick of the light, for when he stood and faced his friend, his face was clear and his features were angry.

"What the hell? That's crazy. Of course I fancied her! I wouldn't have dated her otherwise, would I?" His eyes dared Seamus to speak differently.

Seamus didn't take the bait; instead he relaxed into the overstuffed back of his scarlet armchair to watch the proceedings.

Dean turned hesitantly to his friend. "Well, that is to say, I didn't think she was '_the one'_, or anything, but you know, I just…"

Seamus smiled knowingly. "Relax. There are plenty of fairies in the forest, and you'll find the fairy who's right for you."

Dean suddenly glowed with anger again. "Yeah? Well WHO'D WANT TO DATE A FUCKING FAIRY?"

_Well_, thought Seamus, as he retreated to the relative safety of the dormitory, _he does have a point_…

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	2. You make little, if any, sense

"_There are plenty of fish in the sea, but you're the only fish for me."_

**Part Two: In which Seamus points out that Dean makes little, if any, sense.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Etc.**

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Over the next couple of days, Dean stayed in his dormitory claiming sickness. Madam Pomfrey was not pleased when he refused to stay in the hospital wing, so she sent him back to his bed for rest after loading him down with multitudes of potions designed to clear up headaches and the like. His dorm-mates were forced to make numerous promises and sign binding contracts about not disturbing him and letting him "rest to regain health." Needless to say, they were not pleased. 

The next morning Seamus waited until they had all left before coming over to sit on Dean's four-poster. "You're going to have to face her sometime," he said conversationally.

Dean groaned and avoided Seamus's eyes. "It's not so much her. It's more like…"

"Everyone!" Seamus contributed helpfully.

"I s'pose. But I don't want people wondering why she dumped me. I mean, there's the Harry thing, but we were having trouble before that."

"Well," said Seamus thoughtfully, "whenever I'm faced with a hard problem…" he trailed off and rummaged around in his trunk before producing a bottle of mulled mead.

Dean looked on suspiciously. "How'd you get that? And how have you kept it secret? And WHY did you keep it secret from your best mate, who would certainly enjoy some of that now and then?"

Seamus shrugged. "Dunno, dunno, and dunno. So do you want some or not?"

"Oh, go on and pass it over. You do realize we're probably going to get in trouble, and I'm blaming it entirely on you."

"Good," said Seamus thickly, taking in a large mouthful. "I look forward to it."

As it turned out, neither boy could handle his alcohol all that well. Between long sips they discussed philosophy, Quidditch, and how cool stairways were. It wasn't long before they felt too warm and full to say much of anything, and instead fell into a companionable silence.

"Hey…you?" said Dean, breaking the quiet and poking Seamus in the ribs. "I don't want people getting the wrong idea about me n' Ginny."

"What's the wrong idea?" asked Seamus, squinting somewhere between the ceiling and the window from the comfort of Dean's bed.

"The one that isn't right."

"What's the right idea?"

"That I really, really liked Ginny."

"So tha's right, is it?"

"No."

"So's wrong?"

"I reckon."

"You do realize that you're making little, if any, sense," commented Seamus, pulling himself up onto his elbows and focusing his bleary eyes on Dean's face.

"Well…" Dean hesitated, and, unable to find the words he wanted, gestured wildly in the air.

"Sorry mate, I don't speak stupid."

"Fine. I didn't really like Ginny. I just wanted…to be in a relationship, ok?" Dean sighed heavily and rolled over.

"Then why were you so mad that she dropped you?"

"Well, for one she ruined the relationship thing for me. Two, as I said, people are going to wonder why she didn't like me. And three…well, there is no three. But still."

"You're hiding something," said Seamus to the ceiling.

"No."

"Yes."

"Well, it's not like I secretly like guys and was onlu using Ginny to hide the fact that I may or may not be gay and am in love with someone close to me!"

Seamus looked up at Dean and smirked. "Well, if you had just said that in the beginning, we wouldn' have had to waste a whole bottle of mead."

They glanced guilty at the empty bottle lying between them.

"There's nothing wrong wi' it, of course. I reckon I fancy certain blokes." Seamus glanced at Dean to gauge his reaction.

"Who?" asked Dean, struggling to sit up, but falling back against the pillows.

"Oh, such an' such an' so an' so. You know." He carefully avoided his friend's eyes and began to toss the glass bottle in the air.

"Can I kiss you?" Dean asked unexpectedly.

Seamus faltered, and the bottle shattered on the hard floor, scaring them both. He regarded his friend intently, all traces of a smile gone. "Why?"

Dean stared back just as seriously. "Because, luckily, alcohol seems to make me brave. And I figure if I don't do it while I'm brave, I never will. Because though you're a bit of an idiot, you're still really smart and funny."

Seamus glowered. "You think I'm an idiot?"

"Yeah," said Dean, smiling. "And I think I love you."

The distance between them of six inches seemed to be a thousand miles, and Dean, moving so slow that he ached and so fast that he burned, gently kissed his stunned friend on the lips.

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	3. Firebreathing dragonman of doom

"_There are plenty of fish in the sea, but you're the only fish for me."_

**Part Three: In which Seamus is found to be Dean's fairy/ferocious, fire-breathing dragon-man of doom, and Neville's timing is awful. **

**Disclaimer: CharactersNot mine. Etc.**

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The kiss was long. And wet. And serious. 

Seamus was enthralled by the contrast of Dean's dark skin against his cursed pale white skin. There was just something so…right about it. Not to mention how good Dean felt against him. And that indescribable little tilty-head-thing Dean was doing.

Unfortunately, he needed to breathe.

"So, um, wow…" Seamus stuttered, coming up for air. He tried to speak again, but choked on his words.

"Amazing," laughed Dean.

"What's amazing?"

"I've actually rendered the irrepressible, garrulous Seamus speechless."

Seamus lobbed a pillow at Dean's head. "Yeah, well, don't tell anyone. I don't want anyone knowing that I've gone soft."

Dean grinned evilly. "I promise not to tell, on one condition."

"What's that?"

"We try this kissing thing again sometime _without_ alcohol."

Seamus stretched, cat-like, and leaned back against the headboard. "Dean, my good friend, d'ya know what I always say?"

"I know thousands of things you 'always say,' as you never stop talking."

"Ahem," said Seamus, ignoring this remark. "I always say that there's no better time than the present for practicing kissing."

"I've _never_ heard you say that."

"Yeah, well, there's a first time for everything."

He nestled up against Dean and lightly kissed his neck.

"Wait, Seamus," said Dean, extracting the Irish boy from his body with some difficulty. "I mean…do you want to actually do something about this?"

"You mean like…kiss you some more? Then yes."

Dean pushed Seamus off the bed. "You know what I mean. I mean…well…"

Seamus laughed, sprawling out comfortably on the floor and resting his head on his folded arms. "Yeah, I know what you mean, and it's lucky I do as apparently you don't. And the answer is yes, I do want to do something about 'this.' But later, because right now, I'd rather be doing something else."

Dean rolled off the bed, narrowly missing the shattered glass from the bottle of mead, and leaned over Seamus, supporting himself on his elbows.

"So you don't care what others think?"

"Well, I can't pretend I'm not worried that others are going to be talking about us."

"Seamus, there always going to be talking about us. Or you, at least. Ever since you set Goyle on fire in potions—"

Seamus quickly covered Dean's mouth with his hand, looking nervously around him to make sure that there wasn't an eavesdropper in the room that he might have missed. "Shh, Dean, they never proved it was me!"

Dean laughed and nuzzled Seamus. "Who'd have thought that you would turn out to be the fairy for me?"

"Can we use a manlier term?" asked Seamus, grimacing. "I kind of prefer that I turned out to be your 'ferocious, fire-breathing dragon-man of doom.''"

Dean laughed again and leaned down to kiss Seamus.

It was precisely at this moment that Neville chose to bang into the dormitory. He stopped and cocked his head, his large eyes big and round in his even rounder face, puzzled by the sight before him.

He stared openly at Dean and Seamus.

Seamus stared at Dean.

Dean stared at Seamus.

They both stared at Neville.

Neville got tired of staring.

"What are you two _doing?_" He finally asked.

It looked as though it was promising to be another staring match. The silence settled over them, and Dean was all to aware of how compromising his position was. Seamus decided to speak up.

"…Wrestling" he offered.

"Wrestling?" asked Neville.

"Wrestling?" asked Dean.

"Wrestling," confirmed Seamus.

Neville laughed. "Well why didn't you say so? Don't mind me, I just need to get another quill." He bustled over to his trunk and rummaged around for awhile before emerging with a large quill. Whistling cheerfully, he left the room, the door banging behind him.

"WRESTLING?" asked Dean quizzically, shaking with supressed mirth.

Seamus smiled smugly. "Would you rather I have told him that I was about to unbutton your shirt slowly, tantalizingly, then peel it off your sticky body, throw it aside, and then trail my tongue along—"

"Well then, laddy-me-love," said Dean, interrupting. "In that case why don't you stop talking and start wrestling?"

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_My lovely people, thanks for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoyed it._


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